


Irritating Inconveniences

by keylimepie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Forests, M/M, Saving People Hunting Things, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylimepie/pseuds/keylimepie
Summary: Sam has been on a long hunt, Gabriel is lonely, Sam is cranky, and when Gabriel pops in to help, things really start to go wrong. Can they pull it together and figure each other out? Dean and Cas, meanwhile, are just along to get this freaking wendigo put to rest and eat a lot of pie. But nothing was ever going to be that simple, was it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the March 2017 Gabriel Monthly Challenge!

It wasn't that the snowstorm was the biggest thing inconveniencing and irritating Gabriel, it was just the last irritating inconvenience in a long string of irritating inconveniences. In fact, compared to, say, Sam being bafflingly angry at him, or the hopefully temporary condition of being pretty much human, the snow was just ducky. But no, that wasn't even how the whole mess started. 

For starters, there had been the wendigo that Sam and Dean had been chasing that had frustrated and eluded them, and just kept racking up the bodies. Even Cas hadn't been able to find and barbecue the thing. It had been two weeks of hunting, two long lonely weeks for Gabriel, before Sam had begged for Gabriel's help during his nightly prayer. “You know I don't ask lightly, honey,” Sam sighed into his folded hands. “And almost never when I'm not in serious danger. And yes, I really miss you and I want to get this over with and see you again. But I just... oh Gabe, the looks on those kids faces. Every time we went back there for more info and we still couldn't tell them where their dad was. If he was even alive. It just got me, you know? And more and more men keep going missing. This poor town, I can't... anyway, Gabe. I just... wanted to ask. No hard feelings if you can't. I'll see you when we're done, I guess. I love you, Gabe.” 

Then there was the stupid cabin the Winchesters had picked to stay in. “This?” Gabriel had said, wrinkling his nose when he finally answered Sam's summons the next morning. “You kids are staying in this mildewy dump?” 

Dean snorted. “Gosh, sorry I didn't book you a suite at the Ritz, Princess. Guess you'll just have to slum it with the plebes.” 

“You don't have to stay if you don't want to,” Sam said a little sadly, pulling his hand free from where it had landed on Gabriel's shoulder after their initial embrace. “It was nice to see you even just for a moment.” 

“Chill out, Sam-a-lot. I'm staying,” Gabriel sighed. “Don't suppose you'd mind if-” 

“NO!” Dean barked out thunderously. “I'd much rather the mildew than any skeevy Trickster surprises.” 

“Dean, I'm not-” 

“NO,” Dean repeated. 

“Fine,” Gabriel huffed, rolling his eyes so hard that only a sliver of golden iris was visible. “Sam, can we take a walk?” 

“I'd really rather just get down to the case, Gabe. I mean, you are here to help me?” Sam looked at him hopefully. “I really thought that you came because of what I said.” 

“I did. Of course. Well, show me where this tormented creature has been spotted and let's see if we can put it to rest.” He picked up Sam's coat and held it out to him. Sam reluctantly shoved his arms into the sleeves as Gabriel reached up to tuck it securely onto his shoulders. “Deano?” Gabriel asked. 

“I'll stick here and poked over these police reports again with Cas. Not interested in third-wheeling it.” Sam pursed his lips and glared at Dean on his way out the door. 

“Isn't this a little out of the way, Samtastic?” Gabriel commented, looking out over the thick forest, broken only by a little dirt road that led down the mountain toward the tiny nearby town. 

Sam shoved his hands into his pocket as they walked down the path away from the cabin. “We picked this cabin because, A, there's plenty of empty cabins around here because no one wants to come here with the disappearances going on, and B, it's right up in the area where most of it has been happening, so easy access to the scene.” 

“You mean you muttonheads purposely went camping in a wendigo's backyard?” Gabriel exclaimed, stopping suddenly and clutching at Sam's arm. 

“Um. Yeah. We're right in the middle of the danger zone. What the hell do you think I _do_ on a hunt, Gabriel? Play checkers?” Sam returned bitterly, yanking at his arm. 

Gabriel sighed and loosened his grip on Sam's arm, stroking his fingertips down across his wrist lovingly. “I thought you exercised reasonable caution in what you do, kiddo.” 

“Define 'reasonable',” muttered Sam. “I mean, some people would think that 'reasonable caution' would include having an archangel boyfriend who was so worried about your wellbeing-” he bit off the last of his statement, stomping ahead irritably. 

“Hey!” Gabriel exclaimed, shuffling to catch up. “Sam, I've told you a thousand times. You need my help, you ask for it. You asked, I'm here. But usually you just don't. Do you want my help more often? Is that what this is about?” 

“God! Gabriel, you're-” Sam stopped short and whirled to face him. “You're so- stop babying me, okay? I may just be a weak pathetic human but I like to think I have some competency as a hunter, I'm not an idiot-” 

“I do _not_ think you're an idiot!” Gabriel gasped out, wide-eyed. “When did I ever say-” 

“You don't. Say it. You _imply_ it every time you get all... high and mighty and self-righteous.” 

Gabriel was stunned silent for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sam,” he said at last, quietly. “I'm so sorry. I had no idea... if I'm hurting you, sweetheart, you've gotta tell me... I don't even know what I...” He reached out tentatively and placed a palm against Sam's chest. Sam closed his own hand over it and squeezed his eyes shut against the tears, breathing deeply. 

“Later. When this is solved, we'll-” Sam suddenly stopped speaking and his head snapped up. There was a cracking of branches in the distance. Gabriel was on alert just as suddenly, pushing his power outward, sensing. 

“Humans,” he muttered. “Cluster... five? Seven?” He sniffed. “They have trail mix.” 

“What kind of idiot hikers would be out here now?” Sam wondered. 

They crept slowly toward the sound. Gabriel's feet seemed to be moving as normally, but the brush and leaves on the ground were not disturbed at all. Sam looked down in dismay every time he snapped a branch or rustled leaves. Most the winter snow had melted here weeks ago, baring the ground once again, though crusts of snow remained in the shadows of trees. Here and there, the green shoots of early flowers were sprouting and the trees were beginning to develop buds, many of the branches smacking Sam in the face as he walked along. Not enough very tall hikers came through these woods to discourage the growth at that latitude. Gabriel, however, seemed to be having no problem. Sam scowled at his back. And then Sam spotted it. From underneath the thin layer of snow, the first bloom of springtime emerged. He resisted the temptation to crush it under his heel. The little purple crocus bud continued its existence. 

Gabriel's arm shot out suddenly, holding Sam back as he stopped. A group of people were standing around together. Sam sized them up quickly. Name brand outdoorsy clothes, fancy coffee thermoses in hand, nicely done hair and nails – even on the guys. One person had a backpack but no one else really seemed to have much gear. Well-to-do yuppie hikers, he mused. They had no business this deep in the woods on their own, wendigo or no wendigo. 

But there was something else. Sam caught a flash of movement in the distance, impossibly quick, on the opposite side of the clearing from Gabriel and himself. “Gabe,” he gasped in a whisper, clutching the archangel's arm. “Did you-” 

“I saw... something,” Gabriel said, frowning. “It's not...” he concentrated, scanning the area. “Sam, it's not a wendigo.” 

“Then what?” Sam asked frantically. 

“Okay guys, this is where they said it hangs out,” said one of the hikers, a woman with long, smooth blonde hair, as she pulled a rather complicated looking camera from the backpack. “We are going to be sooooo famous!” 

“And rich!” exclaimed a young man with short, spikey brown hair and a plaid scarf. “The Enquirer said ten grand for good clear photos.” 

“I'm going right for the video,” announced another girl. “I want to get on cable TV. I think it'll be a great launchpad for my career.” She tossed her chestnut curls behind her shoulder as she pulled out a small handheld video camera. 

The other three hikers were laying objects on the ground in the clearing. Candles, bowls of herbs, other substances, a book. 

“Witches?” Sam hissed in Gabriel's ear. “This doesn't make any sense!” 

“No, it doesn't,” he agreed. “The wendigo isn't a wendigo, it's a... trick. False. Conjured... by them, but not by them. Them, and others, believing..” 

“Gabe, what are you... oh crap. It's a tulpa, isn't it?” 

“Yes! That's the human word!” Gabriel sighed. “These morons must have summoned it in this neck of the woods with a sigil at some point for a photo op. But where and when? And what are they doing now?” 

“Well, it must've been about a month ago when all of this started. Maybe they have a hideout somewhere else?” Sam mused. “Can you hear what they're saying with your magic angel hearing power?” 

“Yeah. They're trying to bind the thing. You can't create a monster out of nothing and then bind its powers. At least, I don't think you can, but that seems to be the spell they're working. Maybe they think this will stop it? Hold it long enough for a selfie? But all they're going to do is put the damper on any supernatural creature that happens to be within range.” 

“Um. Um, Gabriel,” said Sam, yanking at his sleeve. “Are we in range?” 

“Well yeah but- oh shit!” Gabriel turned and grabbed Sam's forearms, his eyes wide. “Sam, I'm sorry,” he whimpered as he collapsed forward into Sam's arms, unconscious. 

“Gabriel! No!” Sam gasped. Too loud. The yuppie witches in the clearing were suddenly looking in his direction. 

“Is that it?” one of them asked another as they started to move in Sam's direction. Panicked, Sam scooped Gabriel into his arms and started running toward the cabin. He was crashing loudly through the woods now, and there was no way he was going to outrun those idiots with the burden of Gabriel's weight in his arms. 

“Please, God, let something slow them down,” he prayed. He shifted Gabriel's weight over his shoulder and ducked behind some thick oak trees. Suddenly, off to his left, he saw it. The tulpa wendigo. It was twenty yards away, ducking from tree to tree. And it had begun to snow. Huge flakes were falling thickly from the sky, covering the underbrush and everywhere he'd stepped. 

“You know, that's not what I had in mind, but I'll take it at this point. Thanks.” He patted Gabriel's behind absently and headed off toward the cabin at a rapid trot. Sam burst in the cabin door twenty minutes later, panting and covered in snow. He deposited Gabriel carefully on the couch, then collapsed onto the floor next to him. 

Dean and Castiel had been sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over a pile of papers and eating blueberry pie. They scrambled over to the two. “Can you help him Cas?” Sam asked. “Witches. Did something. Binding spell.” 

“Witches? Witches and wendigos?” Dean exclaimed. 

Castiel had cupped his hands around Gabriel's head and was turning it this way and that. He pried up his eyelids, opened his mouth, peered up his nose. “He's human,” Castiel said, dismayed. “I can't find his Grace anywhere. Are you sure he didn't leave this vessel behind?” 

“I don't know,” Sam said. “Maybe? But there wasn't any holy light. He just... they did this binding spell and then he just passed out.” Sam thought for a moment. “And I know for a fact that there's no one else in that vessel. Wouldn't it just die without him?” Sam's fingertips felt for the pulse on the side of Gabriel's vessel's neck and found it steady. 

“I don't know,” Castiel admitted. “Ordinarily, but I don't know what Gabriel did – his tricks are beyond me.” 

“And no, there's no wendigo,” Sam said, turning to Dean. “It's a tulpa. The witches made it, and they were trying to... Gabriel said it was a binding spell, but it wouldn't work on the tulpa, but it would just bind whatever supernatural creature happened to be around.” 

“And he didn't think to zap out?” Dean snapped. “Zap the two of you out? Smite those stupid ass witches?” 

“I think he realized too late,” Sam said. 

“Well that's just peachy,” Dean sighed. 

The figure on the couch began to stir. “Gabriel?” Sam croaked out anxiously. He sat forward and stroked that golden hair gently. “Honey, are you... you?” 

“Mostly,” came the answer. His eyes opened, then closed, then opened again. “I feel like shit ... ugh, this is so weird. There's this weird pressure thing in my head, and down here in my stomach...” 

“My guess is that you have a slight headache from hanging upside down over Sam's shoulder while he ran a mile with you, and that you need to urinate,” Castiel said. 

“Don't be ridiculous, Cas,” Gabriel scoffed. “Why would I- aw fuck.” He brought his hand up and swiped it across his face. “Fucking witches.” He sat up, and then carefully stood. He looked over at the bathroom door nervously. 

“Yes, you go into that room,” Castiel said. “Hopefully you can manage it from there.” 

Gabriel looked at Sam, his eyes pleading. 

“Yeah, I'll come with you,” Sam said, standing up and following Gabriel into the bathroom. 

They returned ten minutes later. Gabriel sat gingerly on the couch, his eyes fixed on the floor. Sam sat next to him, a steadying hand on his shoulder. 

“Everything come out alright?” Dean couldn't resist asking, grinning. He was sitting at the table loading his pistol with witch-killing bullets. 

“Screw you, Winchester,” Gabriel grumbled. He ran both hands through his hair slowly, burying his face in his palms for a moment. 

“Dean, really,” Sam sighed, squeezing Gabriel's shoulder. 

“Alright, fine. Anyway. So we need to gank some witches and all our problems are solved, right? Me and Cas'll go out and find them. There are other cabins scattered around. They must be holed up in one of them.” He tucked the gun into his waistband. 

“That's probably where the sigil actually is,” Sam added. “You'll need to burn it down, too.” 

“No problem,” said Dean confidently. “Cas?” 

“Look at the snow, Dean,” said Castiel, gesturing to the window. 

“Yes, it's very pretty,” Dean sighed. “We can admire it while we're skulking through the woods hunting asshat witches, okay?” 

“You're human, Dean. You're going to need proper wintertime apparel to withstand several hours out in the elements. The temperature is down to 20 degrees Fahrenheit now and it will only get colder. You cannot go out in jeans and flannel; that is insufficient.” 

“Okay, Mom,” Dean sighed rolling his eyes. “Let's raid the closets in this place.” 

Twenty minutes later, Dean was clad in the insulated coveralls and snow boots of the old man who owned the cabin and had last visited in 1975. A plaid cap with earflaps and an impossibly long woolly muffler left only his eyes visible. He was pulling on thick, homemade knitted mittens. 

“Ah kknn ahhay a aaaaay oh r,” Dean said. Sam snickered. 

“I know you can't operate the flame thrower with these on, but you need to keep them on unless you absolutely have to take them off. I can heal frostbite if you get it, but I suspect I may need a great deal of power for this hunt since we're down an archangel, and I'd rather you not be careless with it,” Castiel said crossly. 

They went out the door and into the increasing blizzard. Castiel led the way, walking through the snow in his trench coat and dress shoes as if it were a warm spring day in the park. Dean followed behind him, trundling awkwardly through the snow. 

They walked for a few miles. Castiel had easily sensed the small cluster of humans in the distance, now that he knew that they were looking for humans, and they made a beeline for them. 

“I did find this cabin of humans days ago,” Castiel said. “I assumed that there was nothing remarkable about them. They seemed ordinary vacationers.” 

“Nnng wrd?” Dean asked. 

“Well perhaps a little weird. I mean, those women use so many cosmetic products. It does seem an odd choice while camping.” 

Dean snorted and they kept walking. When they got to the cabin, Castiel pulled the jugs of gasoline from under his coat and handed one to Dean. They began pouring the gasoline around the perimeter of the cabin. As they met at the opposite corner, Dean caught sight of movement in the distant trees. “Wnneeeooohh!” he exclaimed. 

“Start the fire!” Castiel urged. Dean tore the bulky mittens off clumsily, then pulled the flamethrower out and ignited it, touching the flames to the line of gasoline. It flared up and spread around the cabin walls. 

“Let's go back,” said Castiel urgently. “It may take time for the fire to spread to the sigil. We don't know how long the wendigo will remain active.” He grabbed Dean's hand and started walking rapidly toward their cabin. Dean followed along, rushing to keep up. 

“Sllll ooowwwn!” Dean exclaimed. 

“We have to hurry. The wendigo may not be real but it can still kill you. Also, it's fifteen degrees and you've lost your mittens. We must get you inside quickly.” 

“I esss ahh own ehhh eneee iii.” 

“Don't be ridiculous. Of course you get pie when we get back. There's plenty.” He dropped Dean's hand and grabbed for the other one, then made a dismayed noise, rubbing it between his impossibly warm hands. 

Dean yanked at the muffler. “Oh fine, just zap us back already,” he snapped, gasping at the frozen air. “It's frigging cold out here.” 

Castiel smirked and touched Dean's forehead, and suddenly they were standing in the kitchen of the cabin. Sam was sitting on one end of the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, reading a book. Gabriel was lying across the couch with his feet in Sam's lap and his hand in a bag of peanut M&M's. 

“Hey, those are mine!” Dean protested. He stripped off the outer clothes and padded over to the fireplace, lying down on the floor in front of it and holding his hands close, soaking up as much warmth as he could. “Ain't you normal again yet? Snap up your own candy!” 

“Not yet,” Gabriel answered with a shrug. He popped another handful of candy into his mouth. 

“We just started the fire moments ago, Dean,” Castiel reminded him. “Give it time for the witches to die.” He sat on the floor and peeled Dean's socks off and began rubbing his feet. 

“Hey, uh, Gabriel?” Sam began. “Since you're not used to this whole being human thing... might not be wise to eat nothing but candy, nor to eat a whole jumbo bag of M&M's in one sitting.” 

Gabriel tossed the bag onto the table. “Being human is stupid,” he grumbled. 

“I'll make you a sandwich,” Sam offered. He shifted Gabriel's feet and walked to the kitchen area of the cabin. Out the window, he could see a distant plume of smoke beyond the trees, barely visible through the snowfall. Sam picked up the snowy clothes that Dean had worn and hung them up to dry, then made Gabriel a ham and cheese sandwich and a cup of hot tea. 

When Sam came back in with the snack, Dean was snoring softly on the floor in front of the fireplace. Castiel had tucked a pillow under his head and was spooned up behind him, covering Dean with his coat. Gabriel was sitting up on the couch shivering. His arms were crossed over his chest and his feet were tucked up underneath himself. 

“I'm cold and I don't know how to turn the temperature up on this stupid vessel,” he whined. Sam set the things down on the table and grabbed an ancient crocheted afghan from the rocking chair, and tucked it around Gabriel. 

“Poor love,” he murmured softly, pressing the cup of tea into his hands. 

“And you're mad at me and you're still being so nice,” Gabriel sniffled as Sam sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. 

“I wasn't really mad,” Sam admitted, nuzzling into Gabriel's hair. He inhaled deeply but something about his smell was different, and he knew that he was missing the unique essence of Grace. “I think I was feeling... not enough, you know?” 

“Not enough of what? Samshine, you're like fifteen miles tall. And, um... no complaints at all, babe.” He waggled his eyebrows. 

“Gabriel, no,” Sam said with a blush. “Not anything physical. I mean it's like... you're so magical, literally, and you can do anything with a snap of your fingers and you don't know what it feels like to have to suck it up and ask someone for help. Nevermind loving someone who can only see you as a... a step down from-” 

“Sam!” Gabriel sat up and put the cup of tea down abruptly on the table, splashing a puddle of it onto the chipped wood surface. He twisted around and caught Sam's face between his hands. “You- you are the best I've ever had. The best I can imagine. Can't you see that? Big deal, so I could snap my fingers and make, I dunno, a pile of gold coins and ice cream and strippers. Doesn't mean anything if I don't know how to interact with the people that I love without hurting their feelings. That's the magic you have, Sam-a-lam. It's beautiful and I love it.” He leaned in and kissed Sam's lips softly. “I'm honored to be yours,” he whispered against Sam's mouth. 

Sam felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I love you, Angel.” 

Gabriel huffed sadly. “Not much of an angel now, am I?” He looked up towards the sky. “Daddy's probably laughing his ass off. I didn't want to be what I am, and now I'm not. Guess that's my poetic justice.” He picked at the blanket corner where it was starting to unravel. “I'm scared, Sam.” 

“We will fix this,” Sam promised. “If you're not better by morning, I will hunt down every single one of those sons of bitches. But... if there was no way, if this was permanent – know this, Gabriel. You will always be my Angel. And I will always love you, no matter what you are.” He pulled Gabriel tight against his chest and leaned back against the pillows, secure in each other's arms. 

They dozed off together. When Sam woke up again, the mantel clock read 3:08 and Gabriel was snoring softly on his chest, a little puddle of drool soaking through Sam's t-shirt. Dean and Castiel were no longer on the floor. Judging by the rhythmic thumping and squeaking from the bedroom above his head, Sam was rather glad they'd retired to semi-private quarters. 

“Hey honey,” Sam whispered, nudging Gabriel awake. “How are you feeling?” 

“Mmm,” moaned Gabriel, stretching. “Still pretty tired. Five more minutes?” 

“That cabin must've long since burned down. Are you mojo'd up again?” 

Gabriel raised a hand weakly and snapped his fingers. “No,” he sighed. 

“What did you... wish for or whatever?” 

“Your clothes off,” Gabriel replied with a wiggle. “And a bearskin rug in front of that fire.” 

Sam chuckled. “You know... there's another bedroom up-” A sudden frantic knocking at the cabin door cut off that thought abruptly. Both men bolted up from the couch. Sam caught sight of Dean's gun on the coffee table and picked it up, holding it behind his hip as he went to open the cabin door. Gabriel stood behind him, clutching the tea cup in his hand, eyes wide. 

The girl with the dark curly hair, the one with the video camera, was standing on the doorstep. Part of her hair was singed off and there were burn marks on her clothes. 

“Please help! We had a fire and it's so cold out there!” she exclaimed, nudging through the door, eyes on the fireplace. “I walked so far!” Her hands were tucked under her armpits and she was shivering a little. 

“How did you survive a long walk in below freezing weather?” Sam asked as the woman ran over to the fire and hunched over in front of it. 

“I ran really fast, just kept moving,” she answered. She seemed to be rifling through her pockets. Sam moved closer, the gun still held in secret behind him. Gabriel moved toward the other side of her. 

“What's it got in its pocketses?” Gabriel mused aloud. The girl laughed nervously. 

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure I still have my-” She pulled her hand out, a lump of candle carved with runes and symbols in it, and suddenly thrust it into the fire “Ot sae li-aaaaaaaahhhh!” she screamed halfway through the spellwords as Gabriel tossed the cup of tea in her face, lunging toward him. “What the-” Sam moved behind her to get a clear shot and fired point blank into her back. She dropped to the floor with a gurgling scream. 

Dean and Castiel scrambled down the stairs, still shrugging into shirts. “Dean, wait!” Castiel exclaimed, grabbing Dean and putting his hand over his eyes. Sam was hunched over, his forearm thrown over his eyes, and Gabriel was standing tall and proud, Grace crackling all around and through him. He threw his arms wide and felt the Glory of Heaven pour through his vessel. His wings snapped forth, filling the cabin. Sam felt feathers caress him softly, and just as quickly they were gone. 

Gabriel dropped to one knee in front of Sam and pulled his arm free gently. “It's safe now,” he murmured, stroking Sam's cheek. Sam looked up at him, the faint halo of gold still crackling around him, the haze of gold wings outline beyond his back. 

“Oh, Gabe,” Sam whispered in awe. 

“Gabe's back in business, baby!” he exclaimed gleefully. Sam smiled. They stood up together and embraced. 

“Now... about that bearskin rug,” Gabriel purred, snapping his fingers. 

Late that morning, when the temperature had climbed back up and melted the new snowfall, and the Winchesters and their angels stopped in town and heard the news that the men who'd disappeared over the last few weeks had wandered home out of the storm last night, and Sam held Gabriel's hand so tightly as they walked into the diner, Gabriel mused that perhaps the inconveniences and irritations were not so bad when they helped you realize how good the good parts really were. 

Sam pointed out the green shoots in the flowerbed in front of the diner as they passed. “Almost time for spring flowers,” he said with a happy sigh. Gabriel waved his hand and, to Sam's delight, suddenly the tulips and daffodils and crocuses, and one proud lily that no one had remembered planting, were very early and thriving this year. 


End file.
